


Pirates of the Caribbean: Heart’s Desire

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Sparrow is compelled to join the crew of the Galactick, a ship cursed with a dread lady whose powers of compulsion make her well-nigh invincible. Of course, the lady in question has not dealt with Captain Jack Sparrow before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the fault of the cursed hole in his boat, truly. Had the damnable boat not sprung a leak, he would not have needed to hail the strange ship that he’d spied as the situation had gone from perilous to one that needed the immediate intervention of sea turtles.

Had he not hailed the ship, he would not have been fool enough to introduce himself as the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, which in turn would have kept him in the guest quarters until they made port at St. Augustine, which would have allowed him to continue his search for the Agua de Vida in due time.

Instead, he had hailed the ship, introduced himself as Captain Jack Sparrow, shared a few of his exploits with seafaring rubes that seemed to infest the ship and know nothing of the waters they sailed upon, and found himself quickly faced with an opportunity that his piratical nature would never let him pass up.

Even if he’d known from the moment he’d been escorted into the quarters of one Admiral William Adama — and somehow, Jack only knew upright, slightly dim Williams who were fine sailors and easy marks, and Admiral William Adama was no exception — that all was not well on the sleek boat known as the Galactick.

Jack, having only been aboard a day, did not quite have the measure of these new interlopers onto the scene, these Kobolians or whatever they were calling themselves, he’d be the first to admit to himself and only himself. But he was an old hand at seeing who made the deals in the room, and while the old admiral certainly was a captain to be reckoned with, he was not, Jack knew, the source of the power.

However, Jack also knew, it was very important to the powerful dealer in the room that Jack treat Admiral Adama as though he were the dealer, so Jack made his most florid semi-bow to the man, rolling and wheeling a bit.

“I am, of course, flabbergasted to be in such august surroundings,” Jack said, running his hand over the smooth walls of the Galactick. “And there can be no question that I am intently and intensely curious that I have been asked into the presence of so many high and mighty persons, being, myself, a simple captain searching for his mutinous crew, who has once again fallen prey to the siren song of one Hector Barbossa, who styles himself captain.”

Adama, being the proverbial good man and hearty sea captain, nodded politely at Jack’s speech. Jack, being a pirate and having absolutely no doubt why he’d been asked to tea on the Galactick, dared to take a quick look at the demure lady who was sipping at a cup of tea to Adama’s right.

She was definitely amused, though Jack knew better to think that meant he was in with a chance.

“Mr. Sparrow — excuse me, Captain Sparrow,” Adama said, acknowledging him with a nod. “Your exploits, true or not, give us the idea that you might be of use to the Galactick. As you must have guessed, we aren’t from these parts, and could use a good, quiet man to help us with some worthy but…somewhat irregular…ventures. The Kobolian people need a man like you, Jack Sparrow.”

“So you need a good quiet man, a good pirate, with knowledge of the waters and likely coastal enclaves, to smuggle your people to land,” Jack said, nodding obsequiously. “What might a good quiet man expect from this bargain?”

“Enough to build your own ship,” Adama said. “And acquire a crew that isn’t so prone to mutiny.”

“Don’t want to build my own. I’ve got my own, mate,” Jack said, amused at the weakness of the opening gambit. They were certainly new to this. “Who wants a simple boat when a man’s got the Pearl? I’d take this one, of course. It’s shiny and doesn’t smell like oakum and tar.”

The grizzled old sailor behind Adama, the one with an eyepatch, cleared his throat angrily. “We’re not going to trust Galactick…uh…to the likes of you, you drunken dinghy-sinking sot,” he said.

“Colonel Tigh,” Adama said reprovingly.

“No, let the man speak,” Jack said, raising his hand. “I thought I was a good man, sir. But Mister Tigh raises a question — are my ears to believe that perhaps my reputation among your people is not so high as I had been led to believe?”

“Piracy is somewhat shocking to our people,” Adama said.

“All nuns and monks, I suppose, then,” Jack said gravely, twisting one of the beads on his beards. “Now that I think of it, Admiral, speaking of people, I have a bit of a problem. It seems, while I’ve been introduced to many of your crew, including your fine son, Lieutenant Adama, I have not yet been introduced to all of the parties making this agreement, so to speak.”

Adama tried, gamely, Jack thought, to pretend as if he had no idea what Jack meant. “So to speak?” he asked. “Who else could be making agreements in this room?”

Jack inclined his head at the lady, who smiled and put down her teacup. “Is this fine madam not a part of our parlay, admiral?” he asked, gesturing in her direction.

Ah, indeed, there it was. Uneasy looks from Mister Tigh and Admiral Adama, and merely another calm La Gioconda smile from the lady herself, steadying her cup in its saucer. The lady was indeed the power in the room AND the danger as well.

“You’re mistaken, sir. My wife is merely here to make everyone comfortable and to prevent any scuffles,” Adama lied.

“Ah, so you would be the lovely Mrs. Adama, who ought to be in London, spending the money that your husband brings in on equipping your daughters for the Season,” Jack said, taking her hand and kissing it with relish. “Except that I doubt with the fibers of my being that you are, in fact, Mrs. Adama.”

“The fibers of your being, Captain Sparrow?” the purported wife of Bill Adama said with a gentle raise of her eyebrows. “Perhaps you might consider doubting with the fibers of your intellect, sir. They would steer you far less wrong.”

“I think rather not,” Jack said, waggling his fingers at her. “This entire charade is to prevent my hidebound piratical self from being offended that a woman is the mastermind of this operation. Believe me, as a pirate whose king is also a woman, I am not only not offended, I am delighted to hear the council of not Mrs. Adama, whose name I would much be pleased to learn.”

Not Mrs. Adama, Jack was pleased to note, did not agree or disagree with him, instead giving him a serious glance-over. Jack, feeling emboldened, did the same. Not Mrs. Adama was about five or ten years younger than the admiral, with masses of wavy chestnut hair half-caught up and kept in place with elaborate pins. Her morning coat was quite the marvel; an emerald green silk that Jack had only seen in Shanghai, cut in a French style and embroidered elaborately.

“Laura,” she said. “And I am really very pleased to meet you, Captain Sparrow. I’ve heard your name mentioned in many of the ports the Galactick has stopped in. You sacked Nassau Port without firing a single shot.”

Jack beamed a little. Finally, someone who knew him. “Who told you that?” he asked.

“The very delightful Elizabeth Turner,” Laura replied with a tiny shrug when Jack’s eyes went enormous. “So, are we parties who you might negotiate with, Captain Sparrow? I believe we might gain a great deal from each other. If you’re willing to make a deal with me.”

“If you are willing to assist me in the return of the Black Pearl, a hold full of plunder, and an expedition to find the Water of Life, madam, I am your willing servant in one favor of your choosing,” Jack said, doffing his hat. “How’s that deal sound?”

“One favor?” Laura asked with a disapproving glance. “It would have to be a fairly substantial favor.”

Jack laughed. “Of course!” he said. “What do you have in mind?”

The lady lifted her teacup. “First, let’s have a cup of tea, and then we can make our deal, Captain Sparrow,” she said. “After all, civilized people should never negotiate on an empty stomach.”

Yes, Jack decided, he liked her. He certainly liked her. Not that it would stop him from leaving their agreement vague, but after all?

Pirate.

* * *

The Galactick, with Jack Sparrow quite a bit richer and certainly in a better mood than he had been while bailing out his dinghy, docked without incident at Port Royal four days later, contracts agreed to, and Jack humming a merry tune.

Unsurprisingly, he found Gibbs in a tavern, telling tales and drinking his weight in grog.

“Me mama’s tits, Jack!” the man shouted, giving him a grand embrace. “Your boat was seen floating in the harbor not a day ago. I thought ye’d at last met your fate, old friend.”

“Ah, ye of little faith,” Jack replied, taking the lie at face value, which was rather touching in its way. “No, Mister Gibbs, I have cast aside my small boat for much larger prey. How go your fortunes, old friend?”

Gibbs shrugged grandly. “As ye see, Jack,” he said. “An honest pirate is a man who is at beck and call of the winds. But what prey is it ye have a taste of, Captain?”

“I have promise of assistance in recovering the Pearl, finding the Agua de Vida, and filling my hold with treasure,” Jack said, smirking grandly. “And all I must do is favor a vain woman with my attention until my ship and my mutinous dogs are back at me hand. Simple enough, really, and I feel I’m doing her quite the favor, parting her from her money. Fools and innocents do need educating, do they not?”

Rather than clap him on the back and agree, Gibbs looked at Jack with a troubled look on his broad face.

“A vain woman? Who offers ye the Pearl and such help?” he asked slowly. “Jack, I be as fond of a fortunate blow as any man, but tell me…what’s the name of the ship you were rescued by?”

“Why, the Galactick,” Jack said. “Fine ship. Thought about stealing it, of course, and it goes devil-fast and sleek as the wind, but as fine a ship as tis, it’s not my ship.”

Gibbs set his tankard down and stared at Jack, open mouthed. “Ye’ve never made a deal with the lady of the Galactick,” he said. “Tell me ye’ve not.”

“Not a deal so much as an arrangement, but, Mister Gibbs,” and Jack paused, “What do you know of the Galactick? Does the lady have, ah, a French disease?”

Better to know of it sooner rather than later, though Jack didn’t expect the topic to arise, not with the admiral’s grim attention on Mistress Laura, and her being a fine lady of middle years. But stranger things had happened, and Jack preferred to know the worst when it came to such things.

“Mister Gibbs?” Jack repeated. “Must I toss slops on you to get the words from your mouth?”

“Did ye not know, Jack? There’s a dread curse on the Galactick and all that agree to serve its lady,” Gibbs said. “Met a man in Tortuga, Jack, who nearly cut out his own tongue before uttering the words.”

“Nearly?” Jack asked, fiddling with his mustache. “How can a man only nearly cut out his own tongue?”

“Well,” and Gibbs furrowed his non-inconsequential brow, “He’d had about two jugs of rum, so when he tried to aim for his tongue with the knife, he only got so far as stabbing his own shoulder. We thought he was yarn-spinning after too much rum, Jack.”

“But…” Jack said, very confused, “Gibbs, must I beat the tale out of you?”

Gibbs gave him a shrug. “Sorry, Jack, it’s me storytellin’ nature. We found him the next day, half his tongue in his hand, too late for him to keep his secret. But there’s a reason no sane man answers all those calls to serve aboard that fine and fancy ship, Jack.”

“Bother,” said Jack, tilting his head back. “And I did so like the accommodations and reward being offered. Plenty of spick-and-span sailors to dun out of their pay, atop the promises made me. Well, a tuppence for _that_ idea, then.”

He put a boot upon the table. Ah, well. The Galactick could find some other pirate fool enough to agree to a curse. Jack had had quite enough of curses, thank you.

So it was quite a surprise to him that he found himself standing, holding a hand out to Gibbs.

“Right then,” he said. “Shall we go to the Galactick, Mister Gibbs? The terms are quite generous, being made by honest people and all.”

Gibbs looked at him as if he’d quite lost his mind. Which, Jack knew, was not a new thing for himself. But apparently there was something particularly mad about making his way back to the Galactick and his new way to regain the Pearl and find the Agua de Vida.

“Did ye not hear a word I said, Jack?” Gibbs asked. “There’s a curse upon the Galactick that compels men to do the bidding of its dread lady. Don’t be telling me you made a devil’s deal with them, Jack!”

“No. Of course not,” Jack said, looking for his coat. “That would be ridiculous as the ship, and its crew, are, as you said, cursed. I’m just out for a walk. For more rum.”

“Jack,” Gibbs said, shaking his head. “What deal did you make with them, Jack?”

“Nothing! It wasn’t a deal. It was the furthest thing from a deal. Merely a theoretical quid pro quo, in which I suggested I might be somewhat amenable to assist the mistress of the Kobolian people if the mistress of said people restored me to the Pearl and perhaps gave aid in a joint expedition to the Agua de Vida, which I intend to double-cross to me own ends,” Jack said. “So as you can see, I made no deal. I simply suggested a mutually beneficial idea, which I must go and see about.”

Gibbs shook his head. “You made a deal, Jack,” he said mournfully. “And the lady of the Galactick will make you see it through, or you’ll take your own life in shame.”

Jack frowned. “And I thought me and Mistress Laura were getting along so well,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder. “Well, Mister Gibbs, I’ve no desire to die, and I suppose that it is, for now, for the best if I go to my servitude upon the Galactick quietly.”

“Jack, are you feeling quite well?” Gibbs asked, more alarmed than he’d been through the rest of their conversation.

“No, mate, I’m this far from drawing a pistol and putting a shot into someone’s brain,” said Jack with sudden somberness. “I thought the best manner of things would be if I go put it into that woman’s head instead of me own.”

Light came into Gibbs’ eyes, and he nodded quickly. “Good luck to you, Jack,” he said.

“And to you, Gibbs,” Jack said, walking grimly toward his fate.

* * *

Two sailors of the Galactick — a small African-looking man, who Jack realized was, in fact, a woman, and the admiral’s son, the good lieutenant who for all the world reminded Jack of the late and lamented Admiral Norrington — were waiting when Jack reached the pier.

“You came back,” said Lieutenant Adama.

“Aye,” Jack replied coldly. “May I please be escorted to see the lady of the ship, so that she and I might conclude our business and we might be underway, Lieutenant?”

The woman looked sad. As well she might. “We weren’t sure if you were stuck yet or not,” she said. “Part of the curse is that those bound to it are not allowed to reveal it to others until they’re part of it.”

“We’re sorry,” Lieutenant Adama said.

“Quite all right,” said Jack. “I’ve been under a few dread curses in me day, so I’d much like to see your boss lady, whose name is never spoken in the port of any town, for fear she might enspell you to her will.”

Gibbs, after a moment’s panic, had accompanied Jack most of the way to the Galactick, sharing all he knew of the ship and the crew, particularly Mistress Laura. Jack had discovered quickly he knew more about her than fifty good pirates, but welcomed the information anyway.

“Of course,” the woman said. “She’s waiting for you in the admiral’s quarters. This way.”

Jack walked up the very nice and smooth gangplank for the Galactick, which pulled itself up after the young lieutenant and the young woman — nice trick, that.

“What is your name, by the by?” he asked the woman suddenly.

“Dee,” she said. “And I suppose you’ve met Lee here.”

“I have,” Jack said. “Second mate of the ship, aye?”

Lee nodded, all business. Jack liked that in a man, even as pretty a one as Mr. Lee Adama.

“She’s in my father’s quarters, Captain,” Lee said grimly. “Good luck to you.”

“Thank you, lieutenant,” Jack said with a bow.

He stalked away, making sure the heels of his boot scuffed the deck before he knocked and entered the well-appointed quarters of Admiral Adama.

“You came back,” said the lady of the ship.

“Aye,” Jack replied, drawing his pistol and shooting her between her clever, knowing little eyes.

As heads did when confronted with powder and shot, hers half-exploded prettily, eye rolling up in her head while blood slid down her face. The lady of the Galactick then slumped over, overturning her teacup.

Admiral Adama and the three officers who had been with them looked completely unsurprised at this turn of events.

“That’s for not telling me that you’re cursed,” Jack told the corpse, sticking his tongue out. “And for sticking me on your cursed boat. You…you…treacherous deceased sea-serpent.”

The corpse made a long groan of protest as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. “Admiral,” the lady of the Galactick said. “I’ll need the tweezers.”

Jack blinked and blinked again. “I see,” he said, scratching his beard and watching as the admiral helped remove ball from forehead and one bloodshot eye and one regular eye regarded Jack with a modest amount of annoyance. “I seem to have forgotten that in most situations of this nature, death is not an option for the cursed.”

“Exactly right,” she replied as the bullet clinked into her teacup. “I do hate when someone takes a gun to my head. Three days of headache, throwing up, and occasional lapses into speaking in tongues will sour a lady’s mood.”

“And he spilled your tea,” Adama added, wiping the blood off her head. “I’ve never spilled your tea.”

“No, but Captain Sparrow didn’t attempt to cut out my heart,” Mistress Laura replied tartly. “Can you imagine, Captain Sparrow?”

Jack slid his gaze over to Admiral Adama, who was stone-faced as he looked at his dread mistress and the flesh about the bullet hole closed smoothly.

“As a matter of fact, I can,” Jack said, watching the blood clear from Laura’s eye. “I planned to do it to meself, once, when I fancied myself captain of the Flying Dutchman. But somehow, madam, I don’t think that the admiral intended to make you immortal and doomed to roam the seas.”

“You would be quite correct,” she said with a grim little smile. “But that was before he was put on a much tighter leash, Mr. Sparrow. Which reminds me, I must think of what to do with you.”

Jack chortled. “What to do with me? I shot you in the face, madam, and have every intention of doing it again if needed. You certainly cannot expect me to serve on this ship of horrors, no matter what the terms previously offered,” he said, sweeping his hat off and making a bow. “In fact, I demand my release, for this indenturement was entered into on the requirement that you restore me to the Pearl. I now see that you had no intention of doing so, so the contract is in bad faith, and hence, invalid.”

He spun upon his heels, replaced hat to head, and began to walk toward the door. The woman’s brittle laugh caught him in the chest.

“Stop. Sit down, Mr. Sparrow,” she said coldly.

Jack stopped. And sat down.

“How do you do that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

She ignored the question. Typical woman. Typical cursed woman, at that. Jack was quite tired of cursed women. Why he couldn’t meet one who was unambiguously a woman of loose morals and comfortable standards, he didn’t know.

“First of all, Mr. Sparrow, you claim that our contract was made in bad faith,” Laura said, tapping her hand on the table. Two of the crew fled the room, no doubt to retrieve…something…something of incredible power, Jack suspected. “But is it also not a fact that you entered into the contract intending only to gain the items I offered you as a reward for service and aid to the Galactick and the Kobolian people?”

Jack twisted and squirmed in his seat. “I don’t see how that’s relevant, madam,” he said. “As a pirate, it is my nature to seek gain at the lowest possible price to myself. That is evident in the word pirate, is it not?”

“Answer the question,” she said implacably.

“Yes, I had no intention of helping your silly quest, except insofar as you could help me recover the Pearl and the Agua de Vida,” Jack said, very quickly. “In fact, you did not so much make clear what my help was needed for, except to settle the Kobolian people somewhere on the continent, which seems again to be a statement made in bad faith. Are the crew of the Galactick, and by that measure, the Kobolian fleet, bound by your curse to follow you? And, knowing curses as I do, are you not bound to stay upon the seas and never touch the shore?”

Laura smiled. “Our entire agreement, it seems, was negotiated in bad faith,” she said. “Nonetheless, we made an exchange. The Pearl, a hold full of plunder, and an expedition to the fountain of Ponce de Leon in exchange for a simple favor that a man such as the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow could easily provide on his worst day. However, as you did not specify a timeline for the return of the Pearl, and I did not specify the length of the favor, I’ve decided that I am not yet in the mood to have favors provided.”

Jack returned her smile with a sour, tight-mouthed look. “Not yet in the mood, eh?” he asked.

“Headache,” Laura said dryly.

Jack would have protested this egregious and tasteless display of power, but the two crewmen returned then, one carrying a pair of metal tags, and the other a parchment.

“What’s this, then?” he asked, looking as both were put in front of him.

“Welcome to the crew of the Galactick, Mr. Sparrow,” said the first. “I’m Crewman Agathon. This is Chief Tyrol.”

Jack snorted. “Honestly, am I to be dragged off out of the presence of our lovely mistress already?” he asked. “Placed in a common crewman’s bunk, until such time as I’m needed?”

Agathon chuckled. “You’ve got the idea,” he said. “Begging your pardon, sir. Shall we help Mr. Sparrow get settled?”

“I think not,” Laura said, holding up a hand. “He did shoot me in the head, so I believe that he can spend my post-splatter headache in the brig with Mr. Baltar. Off with him, now.”

Tyrol and Agathon both hissed out breaths that let Jack know that Mr. Baltar and the brig were rather unpleasant places. Then again, Jack had guessed that despite the space and luxury that glittered all about on the Galactick, things were not quite on the up-and-up, given that they were run by a madwoman under a curse who was unable to die and able to make a man sit down and stand up at her whim.

“Don’t worry, I shall go quite quietly,” Jack said, standing up and doffing his hat. “My dread lady, we shall meet again, and believe me when I say I look forward to fulfilling your favor so I can be off this ship and owed a significant favor by someone who can stop a man in his tracks with a word.”

Mistress Laura rolled her eyes, but nodded at him before waving the men off to drag him to the brig.

Jack smirked. Fancied him a bit, she did, despite the gunplay.

That, at least, was worth knowing.

* * *

Jack was quite comfortable in the company of the mad; he himself was somewhat mad, he knew. Had gone ’round the bend while in the Locker. Sometimes he talked to himself, for there were ever-so-many of them.

But there was something pricking at his thumbs, a strange ache that made him very much want to stroke the wood, to rub against the grain as the filthy man without eyes did. Still, watching a filthy man without eyes do it made Jack fairly certain that it was madness, and not of the proper entertaining sort.

“Ay, mate,” Jack said, waving at him before realizing what a waste of time _that_ was. “What happened to your eyes, then?”

“I saw too much,” he said with a shrug. “And you’re not the usual sort that’s got imprisoned down here. What did you do to our dread mistress, then?”

“Shot her right between the eyes,” Jack replied. “And then she had me taken away before I could say too much. She’s hiding something, something more than the curse.”

A woman’s chuckle made Jack jump. “Oh, Gaius,” she said. “Did you hear that? I told you…there’s something in the wind.”

“Shut your mouth,” Gaius replied, pushing away from the wall and fixing Jack with a glare that was no less glaring for the man having no eyes.

“Me? But I didn’t say nothing, mate,” Jack said, not sure whether to reveal that he was quite aware the madman was speaking to an invisible lady.

“She’s not invisible if you know how to look,” another Jack informed him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“And, mate, you really want to know how, savvy?” Jack the Third said with a friendly leer. “Legs up to her neck, this fine doxy of this cursed ship.”

“More terrifying than the Dutchman, really,” Second Jack added. “At least on the Dutchman, you could see all the prisoners in the walls.”

“You lot, be quiet,” Jack said, trying not to get distracted, which was really rather a trial, given that Jack the Third was on his knees doing something obscene with his tongue with an unseen leg.

Well, maybe not unseen if he could see its sleek golden perfection. But it wasn’t quite resolving into a woman, that was the truth.

“Do you ever get the sense that sometimes, the silence is having its own conversation without you?” the madman said dryly. Jack took that as a sign that he was as aware of the other Jack as Jack was of the madman’s pretty doxy. “They say it’s a sign you’re mad. For myself, having been mad half a dozen years already, I think it’s a sign you’ve finally seen past the conspiracies that our eyes hide from us.”

Jack tilted his head. “Silence can get noisy,” he said. “But I don’t see the sense in blinding myself, if I already know not to believe my lying eyes, savvy?”

The madman chuckled, a gallows noise if Jack had ever heard one. “Then you are a great dealer cannier than I, sir. What is your name?” he asked.

“I’m Captain Jack Sparrow,” Jack said, bowing before he remembered that the man before him couldn’t see his fine bows. Bother. “And you would be?”

“Doctor Gaius Baltar, former leader of the Kobolian people,” the man replied. “I bet you didn’t know that. They elected me. Not her. She’s never been elected once. Of course, when she was busily stealing my power, the Kobolian people wanted my head on a platter and the great debate was whether they preferred it fried or boiled. And I bet there’s something else you’ve never thought of: the most dangerous monsters begin as the best of people and the best of intentions.”

Jack, thinking of Mrs. Elizabeth Turner and the stink of Kraken jaws, chuckled. “I do know that nothing can be more ruthless than a woman with principles in a tight spot,” he said, putting a hand on the iron bars that separated them from freedom. “So is that a warning about our dread mistress, then?”

He caught a flash of — something. Of sunlight streaming and laughter. But only for a moment, enough so he just shook his head at it.

Doctor Baltar smiled a twisted, rueful smile at him. “We’re not much different, are we? Except that you have a chance to escape this place,” he said. “You know there’s more to a curse than killing the one who seems to be the source of the curse. Or at least, you seem capable of learning, Captain Sparrow.”

Jack thought about it for a moment, and as he did, _heard_ something, a sound far more mournful than laughter. Music. He heard music.

He leaned against the wall of his cell, and the music got louder.

“There’s more cursed here than Mistress Laura,” Jack said slowly, remembering his compass. “That’s interesting.”

“And if you want to keep your eyes, your tongue, and your head, you’ll keep that bit of knowledge to yourself,” Doctor Baltar replied. “Savvy?”

Jack rubbed the side of his nose. “If we get out of this mess, I might have room for a blind man on me ship, Doctor. You seem’s the sort who can make a proper deal and run from it as needed,” he said.

Doctor Baltar nodded. “I’d prefer to stay with the Galactick,” he said. “But I am very honored by your offer, Captain Sparrow. It’s not often I find a man after my own heart.”

“Honor between thieves,” Jack agreed, reaching out and shaking the man’s wandering hand. “So, what’s your fancy girl like?”

“Blonde. Beautiful. Legs up to her teeth and the willingness to bend in many directions,” Baltar said. “She’s curious: why are there three of you?”

“We like to play cards and cheat each other outrageously,” Jack said, climbing into his hammock. “We could add your lady friend as a fourth, perhaps.”

A ghostly hand stroked Jack’s shoulder. “Perhaps we might be amenable,” the woman’s voice said. “But…later. Later, Jack. There are other things you need to consider first.”

“What sorts of things?” he asked. “We’re locked in a cell, your friend is blind and can’t see, and it’s not as though I can overcome the curse and the lady of the Galactick in my hammock.”

“Perhaps,” the woman said, her breath fluttering close to his ear. “Or maybe you can listen…”

Ahhh, that was a voice quite worth listening to.

Except as Jack sank further into the hammock, he found that it was quite dark, and the singing became screaming.

No. There’d be none of that. He would not be considering going madder, not even to get off this pretty prison of a ship.

So instead of listening, Jack spent the next three days talking, to anyone or anything that would listen. Mostly he spoke about how ready he was to follow the bidding of the dread mistress of the Galactick if he could get away from the dirty madman and the loud singing that would not quiet down.

It worked: on the fourth day, Agathon and Tyrol arrived and unlocked the door.

“Sorry,” Agathon said.

“Quite all right,” Jack said. “You were just following orders. Doing your duty.”

He of course would not mention that having already been mad, the madness of the brig had not actually effected him, and that he was as resolved as ever to escape the Galactick and to devil with her, her mistress, and her crew.

“You keep telling yourself that, Jack Sparrow,” the blonde doxy’s voice ghosted up in his ear. “Perhaps you’ll be ready to listen next time.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Jack said, surprising both Tyrol and Agathon. He waved uneasily. “Sorry. Hearing things.”

They nodded. “Happens to the best of us,” Tyrol said. “Come on. You’ve got a watch.”

Simple enough, Jack decided. A few days of dissembling, and then bob’s your uncle, sally’s your aunt, he’d be off this ship, savvy?

If the damn ship would just stop singing, Jack thought as the sun flashed in his eyes, it would be much easier to plot escape, though.


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with being on a cursed ship that rarely needed to make port was that a few days was never really a few days. Jack rather supposed this was how Barbossa and the crew of the Black Pearl had found itself cursed for nigh on a decade; time just got away from a man on the sea with no clear paths for escape or redress.

Worse yet, Jack was discovering that he _liked_ the rubes.

Despite protests and most certainly despite his own deep and abiding hard work to avoid it, Jack Sparrow was taking to work on the Galactick like a duck to water. Just much less wet.

It hardly hurt that compared to most ships, the Galactick was as simple to work as a child's rowboat. At least in terms of hauling the line, setting the rigging, and in general the routine work of sailing a ship.

In short, it was nearly a month after Jack had found himself bound to the Galactick before any progress at all could be made on his promise to escape the boat and devil take the hindermost.

As with most events in his life, Jack also discovered that it never rained, but it poured, not just water, but thunder, lightning, and sometimes hail.

"The ship is singing to me," said Jack, apropos of nothing, one bright afternoon as he and Agathon, who they called Helo, were up in the rigging, looking for a better course to the land that always seemed to be just out of their reach. "Why is the ship always singing, Mister Helo?"

"I don't hear any singing," Helo said, hanging companionably next to him. "Too much rum, Mister Sparrow?"

"There is no such thing as too much rum," Jack said firmly. "There is such thing as too much tea, too much port, too much bloody conversation with women, but never such a heretical thing as too much rum."

Helo chuckled. "Fair enough, Jack," he said. "But I'm suggesting the ship might not sing if you drank less rum."

"Mate, you've got it all backward," Jack said. "It's only when I drink MORE rum that there is...now what in buggery is that?"

Bolt out of the blue, there had been light on the horizon. At least, so it looked to Jack, who had stopped trusting his eyes. But he thought he'd really seen it, blast it all.

"That flash of light?" Helo asked, suddenly as much on his guard as Jack. "I don't know. Shouldn't you? Don't you have some sort of pirate legend about every strange event to happen on the Caribbean and beyond?"

At times, Jack suspected his crewmates were not entirely serious about pirates and the treasury of lore that a man such as Jack provided them. Then again, sometimes, he wasn't sure his crewmates were from this world on occasion.

And that was when Jack broke out the rum.

"Wait. Did you hear that?" Helo said, catching his attention again. "That sound. Not exactly like thunder. More like...the kind of sound that would go along with a shot. Any legends about that?"

"No," Jack said.

"I mean it. I don't know what that is, and if you do, I'd be happy to hear any theories. No matter how full of tentacles and unlikely, irrational things," Helo said, gazing off into the distance.

"I'm as without a clue as you, Mister Helo," Jack said. "Though I have a thought. A flash followed by a rumble often means we should get off the rigging as fast as we can before we are hit with the wave that is, inevitably, coming."

Helo blinked -- poor fellow, he was a good man but not quite up to Jack's rhetorical level -- and then started scrambling down the rigging. Jack, after a moment, followed suit, and both men were just on the deck when the Galactick began to rock.

"Uhh, chaps and ladies, sailors and scum, I might seek shelter were I you and not in the mood to be thrown overboard," Jack said, heading for the lower decks.

"Belay yourself, Mister Sparrow, and help us brace!" came a man's roar, and to Jack's surprise, Adama himself was on the deck. Which, as far as Jack knew, he often was, but rarely on Jack's watch. "We've got a wave coming in and fast! You all know what to do, so -- TO YOUR POSTS!"

"Right, then," Jack said, following Adama and grasping a line to lower sails. "Shall we drop anchor, too?"

"Are you mad?" Adama asked.

"I've been accused of it on occasion," Jack said, swaying back and forth. "But, my good admiral, I must know. How did you know the wave was coming? Mister Helo and myself were running the rigging, so we saw the flash and heard the rumble that indicated this, but you..."

"You never know who sees what on this boat, Captain Sparrow," another woman's voice said, neither the calm drawl of Mistress Laura or the seductive amusement of Doctor Baltar's fancy piece, but a voice that was rough and merry and rather attractive.

And then the wave hit the Galactick, and Jack was rather more concerned with hanging on for dear life than with the nature of another invisible woman's voice.

"Hold, you swine! Heave!" Jack shouted, quite forgetting that the Galactick was not his ship and he had already promised himself he didn't care if it sank to the bottom of the deep. "I said HEAVE, and the devil take any man weak enough to go over!"

"Mister Sparrow!" Adama roared back. "Mind! Your! Place! You rest, do as he says! Tigh, hard to starboard!"

The ship was listing hard, and Tigh, with an evil cackle, spun the wheel, laughing as the sea spray soaked them all.

"Will she hold against this, Bill?" he taunted, hand tight and voice half-mad. Jack realized he was not the only man who was perhaps against the sinking of the cursed boat, though Jack had quickly decided dying to spite it and its mistress did not suit him at all.

"To your duty, sir!" Adama said. "To starboard!"

"Aye, sir!" Tigh yelled back.

Jack shook his head. "Amateurs," he said, looking down at a puddle. A young woman with cropped blonde hair and a cigarillo between her lips regarded Jack with a playful shrug. "Now who, my dear, are you?"

"Starbuck," she mouthed at him. "By the way? Brace."

"Brace," Jack said. "Oh, hells. BRACE! All hands, BRACE AGAIN!"

Adama's head swept around, and the crew, including the lithe and lissome Dee, took hold of the rope as Tigh gazed out, mad and impassive, toward a sudden cloud that was moving in faster than the first wave.

"Frak me!" Helo shouted. "What in the names of all twelve gods is this?"

"That, my friend, is something that stinks," Jack said, as the next set of waves threw them about like toy soldiers.

"Pull!" Adama shouted. "Pull, damn you, or we'll see if hell herself will chase us from her shores! TO STARBOARD, MISTER TIGH!"

Jack laughed, his hair streaming with water, and saw that the fine blonde woman he'd seen was suddenly pulling alongside of him.

"What manner of witchcraft is this?" he murmured.

"It's the manner that makes this ship seem like one that belongs to your world and time," Starbuck replied. "Or haven't you noticed things like how the wood is not quite wood? Or that the gangplank pulls itself up? Or that there is not a single mirror upon this cursed and weird ship?"

Another wave of water crashed over them, and Starbuck howled with laughter. Jack most certainly liked her, though he was rather tired of this unnatural storm.

Fortunately for him, Jack was on speaking terms with the lady of the seas, and perhaps he might catch a break as the man who freed her. Was instrumental in freeing her.

All right, who had been in the middle of a deal to double-cross Beckett and the East India Trading Company while she was freed by Barbossa.

"Calypso!" Jack screamed to the sky. "Calypso, I beg you, stay your hand! If not for these cursed mewling fools, then for me!"

A howling gust of wind whipped around him, almost...but not quite entirely...sniffing him.

"Jack Sparrow?" it asked. "Be that you?"

"Calypso, if you please..." Jack said. "Might we cut the..." and he gestured about, "Well, you know. That which makes civilized conversation difficult."

The waves and wind suddenly stilled, though Jack could see them circling about the Galactick, waiting to strike it. And suddenly, she was there, standing on the deck of the ship with a sickened look on her face.

"Calypso," Jack said, throwing her a bow, and indicating to his fellow sailors they should follow. Which they did. "How lovely to see you."

"Jack," she said with her eerie smile. "How came you to be on this cursed ship with its lost crew?"

"Made a deal," Jack said with a shrug. "Didn't know about the curse."

Calypso made a noise and rolled her eyes. "I smell it on the air. Blood and sorrow and something else. Something...dark," she said. "This is not all it seems, crafty Jack. Even all your luck might not save you from the curse on this ship."

"Well, it certainly won't if you keep trying to SINK THE SHIP," Jack said, glowering meaningfully as Calypso smiled daintily.

"Excuse me," Helo said, walking up and interrupting. "Who are you? Why are you suddenly here?"

"Ah, yes," Jack said, remembering. The rubes would not yet be used to these sorts of happenings. "This is Calypso. The sea herself. We go way back. She helped me come back from the dead. Calypso, this is Helo. Helo's my mate."

Calypso nodded at him perfunctorily, and then looked toward the admiral's quarters. "I can feel her," she said ominously. Jack did not need to ask who she meant. "Did you not recognize the taste of it? Something not of this earth? Something...alien?"

The door of the admiral's quarters opened, and Laura walked out, cool as you please, ignoring all the crew and focusing directly on Calypso. Jack rather suspected it would be that way, though the dear knew, he'd been left cooling his heels three weeks. Could he not get a moment of time for his quest?

"Something alien," Laura repeated, looking at Calypso and her ragged garb with quiet disdain. "I see."

"I can hear them crying out, woman," Calypso said, shuddering suddenly. "How could you do such a thing to your own? Can you not hear their screams as you lie in your bed and sleep, mistress of all the world?"

For a moment, a terrible cloud crossed Laura's face, and all the men on the ship shrank back, Jack included because he was a man and he had rarely seen a more terrifying face. The music surged louder, and in the far-off distance, he could hear wailing.

"Who says I sleep?" Laura asked raggedly.

"You chose. You chose to be what you are. You choose to be a monster," Calypso replied, spitting on the deck. Jack, looking down, saw the Starbuck woman again, looking up at him and winking. "That was your choice, free and clear. And choices you have always had."

"As you have a choice now," Laura said, unfazed by Calypso's ominious and portentous nature. "You may choose to sink this ship and its crew, which _can_ die, in an attempt to get rid of me and the curse. You know it will fail."

Calypso's look was distinctly unpleasant, especially as she glanced over at Jack. "Jack," she said reproachfully. "How could you put me in such a position, Jack?"

"I? I put no one in any positions!" Jack said. "If anyone puts anyone in a position, it is yon cursed harpy who promised me the Pearl and the Fountain of Life, and who has so far used me about as well as the cabin boy. Nay, worse than the cabin boy. The cabin boy might occasionally be noted, whereas I am ignored totally. Despite my manly charms."

Yon cursed harpy managed a tight, vicious smile. "You have not yet done me any favors, Mr. Sparrow, so why would I owe you any?" she asked.

"Twas your plea that stayed my hand, Jack," Calypso added lugubriously. "And put me in the midst of this foul and sorrowful tangle."

"How does this make any of this my fault? She's the monster! Punish her!" Jack squawked.

"Oh, there won't be any punishing, Mister Sparrow," Laura said lightly. "Calypso is going to agree to allow my ship free passage upon the seas."

"Now how...never mind, cursed immortal harpy who can trick the sea, it must be just part of your nature," Jack said, shaking his head. "So, Calypso will give you passage upon the seas, despite the screaming ship, for what reason _precisely_?"

"Professional courtesy," said Laura dryly.

Calypso spat on the deck again, and Jack noticed another blonde. A very leggy blonde. Perhaps, he thought, Doctor Baltar's leggy beauty. And that, too, was rather interesting. Especially given the point that there were no mirrors aboard this ship, a man had blinded himself, and all was clearly not what met the eye.

"I will not serve you," Calypso said.

"I didn't ask you to," Laura replied.

"Do you always ask directly?" Jack asked, feeling that this point must be pointed out. After all, he had not agreed to serve. He'd just agreed, favor for favor, and see what came of that!

"We signed a contract," Laura snarled. "A big, shiny contract! I have it in my quarters, for the love of the gods and little fishes, Jack!"

Everyone, including Calypso, looked at Jack. Who felt that his dignity must be preserved, so he sputtered a bit, waving his hands about.

"Well, besides that. And you knew that I intended to welsh on the deal, so you...you...you entrapped me!" Jack said, leveling his fingers at Laura.

"Jack, be quiet and sit over there," Laura said, waving him off. "We're negotiating."

Jack shut up and sat over there.

"Cursed women," he muttered, glaring out at the horizon. "Do me a favor, Jack! Help us against a dread curse, Jack! Sit down and shut your bloody mouth, Jack! Why must I always be pestered by the womenfolk?"

"Cuz maybe if you shut up, you'd get a few clues, dumbfrak," said Starbuck's wry voice. "Hand on the wood. Listen and be quiet. She's distracted, so the curse isn't as strong on us."

Jack nodded. Right, then. The ship was talking to him again. At least the ship had many attractive blonde women talking to him, that was almost as good as a bottle of rum and two ladies of lax morals to drink with.

"You have to find the looking-glass," Starbuck said. "It's not on the ship, but you'll need something from the ship to find it. Probably a key."

"Probably?" Jack asked.

"Look, I'm as cursed as anyone else on the boat. I'm just cursed in a slightly different way, so I can talk more if you can hear me," Starbuck said. "Of course, only the mad and the destined can hear us, says Leoben, so we're hoping you have a destiny. We tried to speak through Baltar for a while, and then he went and cut out his eyes. Idiot."

Jack nodded. What this had to do with the price of whores in Singapore, he didn't know, but he was getting the idea that those locked in the ship were nearly as mad as he.

"Oh, quite," said Second Jack. "They haven't even asked us about the box we wear about our neck."

"Shh, shh, mustn't talk about that," Jack the Third said. "Our lady of the sea-tricking cursed harpies over yon might catch wind and then where would we be?"

"It's all for naught. Who'd be searching for their heart's desire on this cursed tub, eh?" Second Jack said. "Though if we can't have our heart's desire, I myself would vote for rum. And the young lady known among the others as Number Six."

"Number Six," Jack the Third said, licking his lips with a hearty smack. "I'll fight you for her. She's far better than peanuts."

"Hush, both of you scamps. I'm trying to listen," Jack said.

"You should listen to us, mate," Second Jack said. "We've been dallying with those on the other side."

"Dallying. Talking to. Discussing things with. Oops, there's the sea wench and the lady who found her heart's desire and lost her soul in the bargain," Jack the Third said. "Gentlemen, I bid you farewell."

Jack looked up, alone. He saw the bare feet of the goddess Calypso, and the silk-embroidered slippers of the possibly-a-goddess or possibly-just-cursed Laura.

"Well, I see you to have come to an accord," he said sourly. "I imagine said accord leaves me trapped on this boat."

"The sea goddess and I have decided on a challenge," Laura said, looking down at him with folded arms. "Which is to say, you owe me a favor, Jack Sparrow, and I've decided to collect."

Jack stood up, looking both women up and down. "If tis my soul or me manly parts you'd be wanting, madam, let me just warn you my soul is owed to at least three different personages of both natural and supernatural origin, and I tend to frequent women of loose morals who tend to carry the pox," he said.

Calypso laughed. "No, Jack Sparrow, us do not want your manhood. Nor your soul," she said. "Us want you to go to the Land of Heart's Desire."

"The Land of Heart's Desire?" Jack asked. "Never heard of it."

However, Jack would admit to himself and only himself, it sounded like quite a fascinating place. One that might be full of shiny things for a man who was quick with his fingers and his brain. Of course, if the sea-goddess and the mistress of the Galactick both wanted him to go, it was certainly a trap, but if he knew it was a trap, it was less of a trap.

Unless, of course, Laura knew he knew it was a trap. But she'd expect he'd know that, and so forth, so there was little to be done with that advantage.

"Yes, we are quite aware that you haven't," Laura said. "That is the challenge."

"That which can overcome the curse on this ship lies there," said Calypso. "This curse, Jack, it gets more powerful every day. If the very sea can be tamed by a word, what next?"

"But...I thought the curse kept you from touching shore," Jack said, looking at Laura, who shrugged.

"I never said that," she said, permitting herself a smile. "You simply assumed it and it suited my purposes that you believed it."

"The earth herself cannot bear this curse upon it, but neither can she fight the power, so great is what's been wrought here," Calypso added, before Jack could protest this latest deception. "It seeks to chase the mistress of the Galactick and this cursed crew from her bosom, but there is no place that is far enough. And so the Galactick travels, and those who come closest to unraveling the mystery are taken."

Jack had known that much. The singing ship, the women who kept talking to him, the slight madness that infected the crew, the endless assassination attempts that didn't work: all proof something wasn't cricket.

Which would be covered under _curse_.

"Ye have a key to the way, witty Jack," Calypso said. "You alone might find the Land of Heart's Desire."

"And how might I find it? I have the chart to the Fountain of Youth, of course, but that is not the Land of Heart's...ah, I see," Jack said, foundering as Laura pointed to the compass at his hip. "She told you about my little box, I see."

"My crew, to a man, desires only one thing: my death," Laura said. "You, on the other hand. What do you most desire?"

"What does any man desire? His freedom. The horizon," Jack said. "To live forever."

Calypso and Laura exchanged a glance. "He'll do," said the dread mistress of the Galactick. "Jack, can you do me another favor?"

"Not bloody likely, she-devil," Jack said.

"Not necessary," Laura replied, putting her hands on her hips. "Help us find the Pearl with your clever little compass. The Galactick cannot, on its own, enter the Land of Heart's Desire. No person can enter except once, you see."

"Sounds standard," Jack said. "So I begin to see the deal between you ladies. I retrieve the object that will undo the curse of my lady mistress here, and in exchange, I will have my freedom."

"In exchange, this world will not cease to be, Jack," Calypso said.

Jack coughed, and choked on his cough. "WHAT?" he asked. "Wait! Pirate! I don't do things like saving the world. I plunder and pillage and drink rum and double-cross everyone for my own ends. What on earth are you thinking, putting a pirate like me in charge of not destroying the world?"

"My had no choice, Jack Sparrow," Calypso hissed. "A shadow crosses us all, and it took all me strength to make a fair bargain with the lady of the Galactick and keep me soul. And you should keep that well in mind as ye set forth."

Jack folded his arms and stared at his boots. "Shan't," said he, aware he was pouting like a child. "Pirate. Pirates do not save the world. Pirates pirate. They steal. They rape. They pillage. They drink rum. They lie on beaches next to chests of treasure, dreaming of more plunder. They double-cross all those they know. They most certainly do not chase moonbeams to the Land of Heart's Desire to settle a bet between a goddess and...well, whatever it is you are, madam."

Laura glanced at Calypso. "Can't the favor be that he drown himself in the nearest body of water so I don't have to hear him speak?" she asked.

"Him likes to talk as though there's no destiny about him," Calypso said pragmatically. "Him tells lies. But you can feel it as I can...he's the playing piece."

"I know," said the lady of the Galactick. "Damn. Well, up with you, Jack, we'll need to get you the Pearl, and to do that, we'll need to talk to the admiral and Mister Tigh and the lot."

* * *

It was done, and in ways that Jack most certainly did not like. He would be restored to the Pearl, and while he liked the idea of Barbossa and his treacherous dogs being forced to get a taste of the medicine Mistress Laura so willingly handed out to any who crossed her, he liked far less the idea that he was between anyone and complete destruction.

Pirate. Pirate pirate pirate, and it had taken Elizabeth Turner, _née_ Swann, a kiss that would melt knees and breeches to trick him into saving what appeared to be his friends.

Most of the world was not his friend, and if they were gone, Jack could have their pretty and expensive things. So why in the name of rum, buggery, and the lash he was being chosen to go to the land of Heart's Desire and undo the curse on the Galactick, he did not know.

But Calypso had done her mystic goddess of the deep intonation and swayed and Jack had found that between literal devil and literal deep blue sea, there was little point in trying to gafiate. They both just got angrier.

And weirder.

For example, the devil herself was now dressed all in black, hair flowing down loose and free as she looked into the star-bound night. And Jack was quite curious how she was suddenly out and about all on her lonesome, as he'd never known her to go upon deck before.

"I can hear you breathing," Laura said. "Also, you reek. There _are_ ways to bathe on my ship, Mister Sparrow."

"Captain," Jack corrected.

"Not without a ship, you're not," she said. "Anyhow, Jack Sparrow, speak with me. You seem unhappy about this turn of events."

He chuckled bitterly at the truth of that statement.

" _Unhappy_ is a misnomer. Bewildered, befuddled, and a mite disgusted that a man such a myself, who has no truck nor trade with immortals, ghosts, or morality, must play out a bet between immoral, immortal women," Jack said. "Who will probably drop me in the drink if I vex their long-term plans. Unhappy does not begin to cover my emotions, savvy?"

A luminous and unnerving smile met Jack's rant. What was the woman doing, trying to be pretty after all that she had done before to make Jack very certain he was absolutely disinterested?

"And what is it that you want, Jack?" she asked in a very interesting -- and very dangerous -- tone of voice. "You have gone on at length about what you don't want. But you're bound for the Land of Heart's Desire. And you only get one chance to go. Have you thought about that, Jack?"

Jack had not fully considered this, but now that Laura mentioned it, one trip was a rather serious occasion to consider.

"You're trying to make me another deal," he said.

"Of course I am," she replied. Jack noticed that the black dress was closer-fitting and more becoming than the garb of a grand lady who drank tea and was polite. She looked more dangerous, like perhaps she bit. Or carried knives in her garters. "After all, I'm not just going to let the sea order me to let you undo all the work I've done without doing my best to win."

"You are the very devil," Jack said admiringly. "What makes you think I'd deal with you? You've bound me to your ship and clearly don't think much of me. Moreover, your ship eats people. Or at least their souls, I'm not quite sure which."

Laura darted a glance at him. "Calypso hasn't told you everything," she murmured, the silver bracelets on her wrists clinking. "You would not be the first to go to the Land of Heart's Desire to look into the glass and undo what had to be done. I sent my own people first."

"The best, or those you wanted most to lose?" Jack asked, suspicious.

"Both," Laura confessed. "They looked into the mirror, and off they went. It's not a human artifact, Jack, and it doesn't have any use for heroes, good or annoying or both."

"Fine for me; I'm no hero," Jack said. "All I want is my freedom, and by all the evidence, my freedom requires you to be undone."

"Does it?" asked Laura, running her fingers along the railing. "You want your freedom; I can give you that and more."

Jack took a few cautious steps forward. "Why would you do that?" he asked, swaying lightly. "What would you offer me were your desire and mine to overlap?"

"Careful, Jacky," said Second Jack. "She knows you know she's attempting to double-cross you."

"But we're not sure if she knows you know and are thus quadruple or quintuple-crossing her," Jack the Third said. "So the advantage may be to us nonetheless."

Jack leaned forward and sniffed the air and the lady, whose dress featured a row of neat little jet buttons, ones that went up her back elegantly.

"What is it, after all, that you fancy?" he asked, touching only the silver bracelet and not the person of someone Jack was almost certain was the devil. "My freedom? Yours? A way out of your grand existence as the dark lady of the Galactick and into someone else's body? Perhaps a blonde?"

"I don't need your help to be blonde," she said mysteriously. "See?"

She smiled, and suddenly the tall blonde fancy of Doctor Baltar was standing there. Same black dress, same silver bangles, but there she was, blonde and slender and oh so very delectable.

"Of course, this may give you the impression that I would tempt you with something that is certainly not being offered," the doxy who was not at all the doxy said, leering at Jack. "And that would be very wrong, wouldn't it, Jack?"

Jack was rather busy taking an inventory of the charms of Laura-as-blonde to bother answering such an obvious question. Of course he wouldn't be tempted by the young blonde version of the devil.

Not even slightly.

"Unworthy of us both," Jack said, moving a step closer and smoothing his mustache with a wetted pinkie finger. "A complete distraction from whatever devious scheme within a counterscheme you have cooked up to throw me off the trail of you knowing that I know that you know that I know you're trying to circumvent Calypso by renegotiating our deal."

The blonde fancy shivered lightly, but not with cold, unless Jack much missed his guess.

"Is freedom all you really want, Jack Sparrow?" she whispered into his ear.

"Remember: _cursed_ ," Second Jack said, but Jack was tired of listening to all the other voices. He was being importuned by a powerful devil-woman who was clearly trying to seduce him for gain. However, as he was trading nothing for a kiss, he got to kiss the pretty and enjoy discomfiting her later.

Besides, she was so accommodating when he pulled her in for the kiss that Jack suspected that despite the purpose of the kiss being to cheat fate, Laura didn't mind being kissed by a stinking, unwashed pirate who was absolutely going to gain his heart's desire.

It wasn't until he felt her hand scrabbling on his hip, ostensibly to pull him closer and turn the kiss into something a bit more interesting that Jack knew what Laura was looking for.

"I don't have it, love," he murmured, working his way down the long column of throat bared before him.

"Don't have what?" she asked.

"My compass. I've handed it over to Doctor Baltar in the brig for now," Jack said. "Where, I happen to know quite well, you won't go."

Laura hissed for a brief moment and recovered herself. "That obvious?" she asked.

"Well, love, would you put on such a show for myself alone?" Jack asked. "Not that I fail to appreciate the firm flesh under my palm at the moment, or the romance of stars and deviousness on the high seas."

Still blonde and lovely Laura smiled derisively. "You don't really expect me to go any further without the compass to steal, do you?" she asked.

"I won't tell if you won't," Jack said, sliding his hand lower. "And we can wake up tomorrow, find the Pearl, and continue being at odds. Swear by my oath as a pirate."

"Which," Laura said with absolutely killing irony, "Is about as comforting as the devil herself agreeing to a contest's rules."

Jack shrugged. "I've faced far worse. Have you ever been drunk in Tortuga after cheating a pirate lord out of his wooden teeth?" he asked.

"I haven't. Nor do I particularly want to," Laura murmured. "Jack."

She hadn't removed her hand, and he leaned closer. "My dread mistress of the Galactick," he teased.

Laura leaned closer. "Jack..." she whispered, the voice being the proper dread lady's while the body was still the blonde's.

Her lips just brushed his. "On my oath as a pirate," he said.

Ah, he was right, Jack thought as most thoughts of deceit fled his head along with the voices, the future, and much besides the moment.

She bit in this dress.


End file.
